


The Other Shoe

by TrishaCollins



Series: Babysitting And Other Royal Duties [16]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bad Science, Bad Touch Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, Behind Enemy Lines, Cor has a bad mouth, Cutting people open that are awake, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, No Promptos were harmed in the making of this motion picture, Warnings to be added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-13 03:08:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Behind enemy lines, Cor catches up with some of the consequences for saving Prompto.





	1. Chapter 1

He woke slowly, every part of him aching, feeling as though he was clawing his way back to consciousness from some deep pit.

"Cw! Cw!" Prompto's voice, quiet, with an odd tinny quality, recycled. 

"Prompto?" He tried to open his eyes, tried to move his hands but found himself unable.

He heard a giggle and then a splash.

Video. The video from the beach. His video. Prompto paddling to him, giggling and laughing and bobbing in the surf. Picking him up and tossing him out into the warm water for him to swim back. The water was salty, so Prompt barely needed any help to stay afloat, the perfect place to learn to swim. 

Regis had taken the video. Clarus had played shark, pulling on toes. Chasing Gladio in and out of the water while the boy shrieked with laughter. Good memory, all of his people together. He’d kept the video. 

Later, sleeping with Prompto on his chest, the salt smell in his nose. Feeling content. Home. His brothers, his child. Safe. 

He tried to move his hands. His video was playing. Shouldn't be.

"How fascinating. You steal a weapon. And you teach it to swim." The video stopped, or at least the noise did. "Modern Lucis is such a strange place. Mr. Leonis, so nice to see you again."

He stared up at the man, who was tapping his cell against his chin. "Ardyn."

"So nice to be remembered. I could scarcely believe my luck when we recovered the footage of the theft and there you were." The accursed dropped his cell to a small tray table regretfully out of his reach. "And even luckier when you came back."

He scratched at his brain for anything to say through the mental fog that was surely chemically induced. He had been captured, of course. Prompto was safely back in Lucis with his mother. "You cut your hair."

The accursed chuckled, touching the aforementioned hair lightly. "So glad you noticed. I thought that leaving it so wild would make me appear more unhinged than I felt." The long fingered hands framed his face.

He tried to move again, testing the restraints. There was no give, nothing to give him an avenue for escape.

"Tit for tat, do you not think so? Lucis steals a weapon, so Niflheim steals a legend. Cor the Immortal, now. The only one to ever walk away. How was dear Gilgamesh, The Immortal Shield? Still as vocal as ever?" The hands were almost gentle on his face - not that force was needed when he was already restrained effectively.

He furrowed his brow. "What?"

"We knew each other once. Long ago. He was somewhat responsible for my imprisonment." Ardyn liked to talk, he remembered. Enjoyed the sound of his own voice. Let him talk and he might have a chance of getting away.

Just had to find an opening.

"He didn't talk much." He said.

"He was always more of a doer, you know? My brother valued his rare commentary." The hands were thoughtful, palm cupping his skull. "You share that. I recall the current Shield was rather more talkative, I can only imagine what he would have to say to me were your positions reversed."

Clarus was not good at keeping his mouth shut. He could grant the Accursed that.

"So." He licked his lips. "Did you just want a captive audience?"

Ardyn laughed. "Would that were the case. I imagine you could fill a number of rolls. Sadly, that is not the case. You are here to replace the biological samples you destroyed."

He frowned, lifting his head. Well, there was a needle in his hand. He grunted, twitching his fingers. 

"Not to worry, exit only for the moment." Ardyn chuckled. "I am told it is quite painless, perhaps the procedure was different when he performed it on me. I recall it as excruciating. He drove a needle into my bones. Here and here." The accused touched him on either shoulder, just above the joint. “I recall an ache, a pulsing, burning pain that never made itself so well known as when I remembered that I was a thing with breath.” 

He groaned, rolling his eyes. He couldn't try anything with Ardyn standing above him

The Accursed smiled, almost as though he had read his mind. "We so rarely get visitors, you see. Most of what he keeps here is already quite dead."

"Glad I can help." He muttered. 

Ardyn beamed, giving him an almost fond pat. “When I was human….I think long ago I might have liked you. You have such a wit about you.” 

He glanced at the door. “But you want to kill my king.”

“Pretend king on a pretend throne, nothing personal against the boy. But my brother’s blood…” Something went faraway, unfocused in his eyes, voice dropping to a whisper, fingers stilling on his face. “I so wanted children, once upon a time. I never desired this wretched existence. Nor the kingship, nor any of these other chains that encumber me….”

He remained still and silent, hoping that the man would keep nattering on. Perhaps from this he could glean some scrap of information to help Regis form a plan against him, some counter to the vile presence above him that still at times spoke with the voice of a man.

“He looks so happy in your video. Like any child.” Ardyn’s hands closed briefly around his neck, not so tight that they choked him, but tight enough that he was effectively reminded that they could. “He was never meant to be a child and yet it seems that is what you have made of him.”

He was unable to keep the scowl off his face. This creature speaking of Prompt made his stomach twist.

“Empty eyed dolls, they all were. Till you looked at one and bid it to speak to you, and it did.” Ardyn was quiet, hands flexing and releasing him in turns. “And you named it…Is it so easy to make a child out of a thing?” 

“He was never a thing.” He said, despite himself. “He was always a child, he always deserved a chance to live.”

Ardyn focused on him. “The start of a grand army, yet somehow you see not the force we create, but the human at its core. I wonder if you will feel the same when you see what they become.” 

“What you make of them does not diminish their worth in the least. It does not change what they were.”

Ardyn seemed on the verge of speaking, but looked to the door and let him go. 

Verstael Besithia stalked into view, smiling down at him with that same nasty twitch to his lips and a new scar over his brow. One that he very clearly remembered as a gaping wound when last they met. "Oh, Mr. Leonis, your help will be invaluable."

“So it scarred after all?” He asked, trying to track Ardyn even though the man had ducked out of his line of sight. “Clarus owes me a Gil, then.” 

Verstael scowled. 

Ifrit's balls.


	2. Chapter 2

 

The world smeared into swirls of color, pulsing and contracting, making his head feel light. He could feel his pulse racing in his chest, feel the tightness with every breath.

As far as deaths went being slowly drained or his blood in a Niflheim lab wasn't one he had expected to face. But he was out of options, the bonds were too heavy around his chest.

So much for his supposed immortality. 

There was a click to his left and the room flooded with light again.

"I suppose that is enough for now. Wouldn't want to lose you to blood loss when we have only just started." Verstael said above him.

He squinted, trying to make the scientist come into focus.

"Besides, we have better luck with fresher samples." Something hard hit the corner of his mouth. "Bite down, Mr. Leonis."

He tried and was rewarded with something cool and wet, with only a slightly bitter aftertaste. Water. Astrals, it was water. He drank it thirstily, unable to stop the faint noise of protest when it was taken away.

Verstael laughed above him. "The hero of Lucis, whimpering for a drink. What a low point for you."

"Suck a dick." He rasped, less sharp than he wanted. 

"Bite." Verstael said, the hard thing against his mouth again.

He did, not spiteful enough to ignore the offer of a drink. Not water this time, something thick that stuck to the back of his throat.

"It must be a little odd to be told to bite down, unless your king likes a little bit of teeth when you suck him dry." Verstael murmured above him, cruel smirk twitching his lips up.

He snorted.

The smirk faded. "What?"

He swallowed to clear his mouth. "Clarus thought that you must not have had friends. I guess he was right, if that's your assumption."

Verstael scowled. "Well. This time your king and his men won't be coming to save you. Cor the Immortal. Perhaps with my help that will be a reality."

He squinted. "Hn. I hate it less now."

"What?"

"That title. It's not that bad when I think of how history will remember you. Verstael the monster? Or maybe Verstael the Butcher." He commented. "Not very smart. So you couldn't be the brilliant. And you're coward, so the brave is right out." His voice was raspy, trailing down into an almost whisper at the last. Verstael heard it though, he could see it in his face.

Verstael's hand closed around his face, lifting him before slamming him back to the table.

It didn't help his headache or dizziness, but it did serve as an active balm for his soul.

"The only fair fight for you, right?" He rasped when the room had more or less stabilized again.

"I am going to rip you apart piece by piece, and when the tattered remnants of your soul cannot stop screaming I will make you into a soldier in my army and send you to kill your king." Verstael snarled.

"Aldercapt's army." He slurred.

"What?"

He grinned. "No matter what you do, how many of the poor bastards you make with your face, they will always be Aldercapt's army. Maybe they won't remember you at all."

He was expecting it this time, and could have laughed if the blow hadn't stolen his last scrap of consciousness from him.

~*~  
"He does have quite the temper." Ardyn's hands were around his neck again, fingers relaxed and almost caressing. "You should be cautious in tempting him to extinguish you."

He squinted at the Accursed, waiting for the pain and the dizziness to return with consciousness. But his body was relaxed, warm, and entirely pain free.

Ardyn lifted a device that looked like a straw to his lips. "Drink?"

He bit down, swallowing mouth full after mouth full until his throat stopped feeling raw.

Ardyn spun the tube lightly between his fingertips, tip of his tongue caught between his teeth and gaze focused on some distant point. "These are convenient." 

"Yeah. I mean if you have to have someone strapped to a table, might as well make watering them easy." He mumbled, lifting his head to look at his body. Nude. But intact. Needle in the back of his hand, wires over his heart, tube in his dick. Intact.

"I was thinking more for healing applications. Less risk of choking." Ardyn still sounded thoughtful. "The patient can control what they swallow."

"So glad to test it for you then." He grumbled, letting his head fall back.

Ardyn's fingers found his pulse, pressing down lightly before trailing up his neck again. "Here is where your life begins." Fingers traced his lips. "And ends."

"If you're going to-"

"Shhhh." The Accursed murmured, pressing fingers to his lips. "Be still. I am thinking."

He narrowed his eyes, considering the man above him. "Did you heal me?"

"Why yes, I did. Verstael is quite incapable of wielding magic." Ardyn tilted his head, odd smile curling his lips. "You are welcome, Mr. Leonis."

There was something different in the Accursed. He couldn't really make sense of it. He had oozed menace when they had met before. Regis had pushed it right back. The invader, the summoner of death.

It was Ardyn who had killed king Mors, leaving Regis to shoulder the burden. That menace was still here, thick, smelling faintly of cherries and decay. But there was something else beneath it.

So why this game?

"Why did you take the child?" Ardyn asked. 

"Because he was a child."

Ardyn tapped fingertips on his jaw, tilting a bit. "But also a weapon. You had enough information. You could have used him to destroy our one advantage."

"He is a child. A little boy." He narrowed his eyes. "We do not sacrifice children."

"Don't you? Won't you?" The Accursed gripped his jaw, leaning down to look him directly in the eyes. So close he could feel the breath on his forehead and see the individual eyelashes.

 

He had no idea what the man saw, but a peculiar expression settled on his face upon finding it. "How...unusual. I thought I would find but another soul caught in the Crystal's thrall. But here you are, eyes unclouded. You don't even want it, do you?"

"Why would I want that stupid rock? I saw what it did to the king, what it does to Regis." The words burst out of him, and he regretted them almost immediately afterwards.

Ardyn chuckled. "So it seems. At last." The hands closed around his throat. "Sleep now."

His protests died as his consciousness dimmed.

~*~  
He woke to something wet on his chest.

He opened his eyes cautiously, not sure what he expected. There was a blond leaning over him, washing him off with a cloth. Short clipped hair, washed out grey clothes and a blank expression.

He blinked at them for a moment, but they just kept moving, slowly cleaning away what he assumed was the collected muck from his capture and the days he had spent without showering.

"Any chance you are authorized to give me water?" He asked softly. 

The servant didn't say anything, didn't shift expression. The pad against his chest didn't alter in any way. He watched them - he couldn't tell if it was a girl or a boy, just that they were young - finish with his sponge bath, then lift the tube to his mouth.

"Thank you." He muttered around the intrusion, biting down on it before it could be taken away again.

The servant looked at him for a moment, Prompto's eyes staring out from the frame of an older face.

He almost choked on the water.

The clone put the tube back and lifted the other - the one with the gritty sour paste - to his mouth. He took two mouthfuls.

The clone let him take another hit off the water tube before cleaning all of the instruments and seeming to forget he was there at all.

"We're you born here?" He asked quietly. 

Nothing to indicate that he had been heard at all, but he could guess. This clone had been created the same way Prompto had. Nobody had been there to save it.

"Some men in your position avail themselves to the clones for other services. They are quite skilled." Verstael said behind and a bit lower to him. 

So he was on a raised platform. The room was bigger than he thought. "You are the only person I know of that could get off fucking your own clone." He mused, still watching the poor thing.

"They are programed for obedience. In the battlefield or the bedroom, commands are commands." Verstael appeared in his field of vision, touching the clone.

The creature froze in place as quickly as one bespelled.

He winced in sympathy. 

"These are the core of the fall of Lucis. Our army. Magitek units. So much less wasteful this way." In another man the expression might have been adoring. On Verstael it had a particularly sinister feel to it.

"So you clone people - yourself in this case - and then shove them in that armor and send them out into battle?" It was disgusting no matter how he looked at it. "No tactics except overwhelming the enemy with numbers, no skill, no honor."

Those blue eyes found his for a half second.

"I do not need honor, just victory. You may go, NF6790."

The clone straightened, saluted, and walked out of the area.

He tried to keep the sneer off his face. "I should have stomped you into the group like a viper when we met."

Verstael laughed. "Yet now you are the one trapped. How interesting, how quick the fates are to change their minds." He lifted one of the newly cleaned tools, turning it on. "I thought today we could see what makes the Immortal tick."

He had been bracing himself for this the entire time. Remembering finding Pows in Verstael's care, bodies scarred, minds lost as the researcher sought his truth. "I'd tell you to fuck yourself, but you'd probably enjoy it too much."

"Your childish taunts do not bother me, Mr. Leonis. We both know I hold all the power here." Verstael smirked. "Now, there is an old song in Nifelheim...something about the knee bone. Shall we see how true that holds?"

"Rot in-"


	3. Chapter 3

He should have expected it, really. It was only a matter of time. His reputation proceeded him.

But there were sixteen of them, all armed, with him naked as the day he entered the world and bare fisted against them.

It wasn’t a fair fight, but from the glint of the cameras above them, it wasn’t meant to be. 

He wondered if Regis would see it. 

Their blades were dulled, their guns set on a setting so low that it merely hurt and numbed rather than killed. They intended him to live through this. 

A pity. 

He didn’t share the same restraint for them. 

He rushed them, slamming into the first one with a crack that made his knuckles ache. The guy went down like a sack of bricks 

He caught the sword, twisting midair and launching himself at the closest soldier. 

It was a brutal sort of fighting, the sword was too short to suit his normal style, and blunted beside. But whatever had been blocking him from Regis’ magic was active, and so he would fight. 

He had been born to fight. 

But it was not a clean fight, it was not the sort of fight be enjoyed where he walked away feeling satisfied with his conduct. He put his fingers through helmets to jab at eyes, he caught one in a headlock and used him as a shield until the man hung limp in his arms. 

He slammed one of the others into the wall so hard that something splattered against his chest, thick and slightly too gummy to be blood. Brains, then, and that meant at least one was entirely out of commission. No longer a threat. 

That was really all he cared about. Threat and no longer a threat. 

One of them slammed him into a wall, hard enough that he briefly saw stars, he ducked under an attempt to grapple him, throwing the one who had been attempting it back into his fellows. 

It was a dirty fight, and there was no chance of anything fair coming from it. 

His nose was bleeding, gushing down his chin. He couldn’t stop to staunch it. 

Somehow, he found himself standing in the room, surrounded by the men who had been in it, holding a sword and a shield. 

A few were still moving, one with the convulsive twitch of the dying, others with pain. He flicked his gaze to the door, walked slowly over to the one that was dying to check the injury. Nose smashed up into his brain, he closed the eyes – and thanked the six the eyes that gazed up at him with light fading behind them were a muddy brown, and not Prompto’s blue. 

He didn’t know what he would have done if those were Prompto’s eyes. Probably have been sick, the thought itself was nearly enough, imagining his kid being forced to fight to the death in a room for some sick fucks amusement. 

“Are we done, Aldercapt?” He growled towards the ceiling. “Or are you going to send more kids in here to die?” 

Silence above him, but the doors opened, admitting more soldiers. 

“I can do this all day, Aldercapt!” He snapped, dropping down into a guard position. 

They might ask for that, but he didn’t care. He would gladly die on his feet rather than inch by inch at Verstael’s hand. If they thought he would give up, they hadn’t really met him yet.

*~* 

The shower was hot enough to scald - probably meant to be an additional punishment, but that was how he liked them. Not chained to the wall under one of eight heads going full tilt, but the giant room full of steam was practically heaven compared to the lab table.

He leaned into the spray, letting the blood and other evidence of the fight be washed away.

His left arm was out of commission, a dull pain was starting where he had taken the hit, pushing through the numbness. Probably broken. He would need to keep an eye on it if they didn't heal him. His chest and stomach ached from his multiple encounters with the wall and floor as the containment unit had tried to pin him down. But nothing sharp or persistent, which meant he was not bleeding internally and there were no broken ribs to contend with.

He had put most of them out of commission - dead or too injured to be of much use - it was a victory, even if his circumstances hadn't changed much as a result.

Aldercapt had probably got what he had wanted. Probably. Maybe. He actually wasn't sure if the display had been meant to gather video for propaganda or just to prove that they had him. Maybe also to entertain the brass.

Here we have the hero of Lucis fighting for our entertainment...or something. He doubted the soldier whose brain he had splattered was very entertained.

Well, whatever. Regis and Clarus were too smart to ransom him. They knew he would be furious of they tried. He could only hope that Prompto wasn't helping Lulu in the office when this video came through. He didn't want the little guy to see it.

"You do put on quite the show." Ardyn said behind him, hand resting briefly on his hip.

Too close, her jerked to the side before the Accursed could settle his chin on his shoulder, twisting the cuffs and his probably broken arm in the process. "What do you want?"

"Why, to congratulate you of course!" Wet hair made the Accursed look younger than he assumed the man was, and the wide, blinking eyes only pretended at Innocence. Somehow, standing in the showers fully clothed made him look more feral.

Fucker. 

He said nothing, even when his arm protested the awkward positioning.

"The Emperor was quite pleased, after all. You exceeded all expectations."

He rolled his eyes, trying to adjust his arm for less pain.

"I think next time they will provide a more suitable opponent than soldiers wising to test their metal." Ardyn continued, almost as though he had responded. Not that he really cared. Ardyn liked his games.

He refused to play them.

The hand touched his shoulder, fingers ghosting down his arm to the break. "Ah. They hurt you."

Fingers pressed in, twisted. He locked his jaw. This was not the worst, not even close. The worst had come and gone with Mors, his king, his duty, dead on the ground with him still breathing. The worst was leaving the tempering grounds with nothing to show except the title he hated. The mockery of everyone who beheld him. He had failed in so many ways that mattered. This wasn’t it. 

Ardyn couldn't touch him in a way that mattered.

“They really have trouble seeing true worth here, my apologies.” The hand trailed up his arm. 

He pushed harder back against the grimy tile, scowling. “Speak your piece and leave me alone.”

The Accursed pouted at him, like Gladio being denied another sweet after dinner, or Prompto at bedtime. “Really now, after all the trouble I have gone to for your concessions? You would think you could be a little more grateful.”

He snarled in response, not wanting to engage this man. This man who had led the Infernian down the streets of Insomnia, trailing ruin in his wake. 

The hand closed around the break, tightening briefly before it gentled, the pulsing warmth of Ardyn’s magic that felt so much different than the familiar coils of Regis’ magic. Different, too, now that he thought about it than Mors’, back when he had served as the old king’s bodyguard. He couldn’t chase the distance down exactly, but he knew it was there.

“His Imperial Majesty had decided to grant you a cell.” Ardyn said, softly, too close, still too close. 

“Tell him he can take his cell and shove it up his ass.” He snarled, wanting Ardyn out of his space.

“So crass, even now. You have survived court this way?” Ardyn chuckled, pressing him into the wall. “After all I have done?” 

“The only thing you’ve ‘done’ is patch me back up so he could cut me apart again. I can see through your games.” He retorted. “I am no green fool to fall for this tactic.”

Another chuckle, hands closing around his throat again. Tighter, this time, but not so tight that he couldn’t breathe. 

He stared back at the demon, eyes narrowed, chin lifted. 

The steam swirled around them, the water beat down against Ardyn’s back. 

“I like you.” The growl was soft, almost inhuman, eyes flashing yellow for a moment. The hands tightened fractionally, until he couldn’t breath and his vision started to prickle. He tried to fight, but the tile was slick, his hands were bound, and the creature above him was incredibly strong.

The water stopped, and the demon was gone, only the steam remained, as well as the throbbing heat in his throat. 

*~* 

 

The cell was…it wasn’t much better but at least he could move. That was really the only thing that had changed. He was still trapped, caught like a floundered bird. He still had to depend on them for food or water.

Plus he ached, bones and tendons, muscles, skin. Verstael had taken him apart with ruthless efficiency, but it felt like the putting him back together part hadn’t been treated with as much urgency. Which made sense, with Verstael. 

He could only imagine the fury on Addy’s face. 

But he could move again, he could stretch his body to try to gentle the aches. He could sleep and forget for a little while. It was something. It wasn’t freedom, but it was a relaxing of the guard which meant he could start to plan his escape.

He hadn’t gotten very far. The bars were electrified, too much pressure and they would activate. A blanket on the ground, a hole in the corner. Nothing that could be fashioned into a weapon or used for escape. When they came for him a dozen guards came with.

Stealing a legend indeed. He was nothing without a weapon, nothing without the pull of Regis's magic. But he made his way around the cell daily, testing the bars with small touches that wouldn't activate the energy barrier. One day he would find a weakness he could exploit. He knew the six hadn’t abandoned him here, he knew Regis was working for him, but he would find his own way. As he always had.

They would not break him here, he would not become one of their creatures. He refused. 

"Such a sad thing, isn't it? You do look like a caged beast."

He ignored Ardyn, finishing his circuit without flinching. Stopping would indicate that observation bothered him, and if he did find a weakness they would remove it before he could make use of it.

"I thought you might be missing the child you stole." Ardyn said, conversational, as though they were old friends.

He turned finally, scowling at the pale splash of flesh on the Accursed's shoulder.

"The one you named Prompto was older when you took it." The grip was careless, easy. The babe was too young for it. Noct had been like this at birth, but Noctis had never been paraded naked through a lab to make a point.

His stomach tightened a bit on reflex, unable to shake the feeling that the baby might be dropped. If he reacted he was doomed. They both knew it.

"This one is newly hatched." Ardyn continued, lifting it from his shoulder.

The baby made a little noise, a gasping, whimpering noise that dropped his heart to his stomach. Were its lungs damaged?

"Batch of twelve, the rest will continue on their growth hormones until they are old enough to harvest for conversion." Ardyn was saying, he had lost track of the ramble.

He needed to focus. He couldn't be distracted by the games or the floppy baby being held in those hands, little jerks and tremors moving through its body. 

He took an involuntary step forward.

Ardyn smirked.

He was lost. He had sacrificed the advantage of ignoring him, he had reacted and played right into the man’s hands. 

"Verstael tends to remove one from each batch as a control. I thought perhaps you could make yourself useful in tending to it." The words had the same cadence as if they were discussing a batch of cookies, and not a small, living being that had been created here.

The baby was thrust through the bars, before he could question himself he was stepping forward to claim it, chafing his hands down the icy limbs to coax warmth back into it.

"There, now. I think baby minding suits you." Ardyn chuckled, waving a hand at him. "Behave and perhaps we will let you keep it. I will leave you two to get acquainted."

He locked his jaw, scanning the newborn for any injury, but nothing stuck out. It - he - was mottled from the cold but quick to curl into warmth and settle. Touch hungry, not old enough for the reflex to be trained out of him yet.

The baby was a new cage, and a complication. The Accursed was playing with him, toying with what the man saw as a weakness.

One of the silent servants was standing on the other side of the bars, holding a tray and staring at him with Prompto's eyes.

He looked at it.

It looked at the baby in his arms.

"He needs a blanket." He said, voice rougher than he meant for it to be. "And diapers. Something soft."

They had never responded to him before, not even acknowledgement. But this time, the silent servant nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

_“Cor! Cor!” His king was speaking. He should respond, but it was so hard._

_“Cor, you have to live.” There was a cough, a splash of wetness against his face, and something warm pressed between his fingers. “You have to live, Cor. My son will need you in days to come.”_

_Bloody hand cradling his face, warmth of elixir, of magic. King Mors’ voice chanting raggedly in his ear. “You must live.”_

_He wanted to protest, to tell the king to use the curatives for himself, but the words were lost somewhere inside him._

_“Live, Cor, damn you. Live.” The weight of someone else on his chest, blood soaking through his already ruined shirt. “Live. That’s it. Breathe. Breathe, boy, breathe.”_

 

_Breathe._

He jerked upright, barely catching the baby that had been asleep on his chest before he dropped him, breath rushing out of his chest in a gasping near sob.

 

He hadn’t had that particular nightmare in years, not since….

 

The baby whimpered.

 

“Shhhh.” He resettled the nameless babe in his arms. “Sorry.”

 

He hadn’t named him yet, not for the reasons Ardyn assumed, but because, well, speaking a name here felt too real. He would name the baby when he returned him to Insomnia, not before.

 

The baby settled quickly, nuzzling close to his chest again with minimal complaint or concern. He supposed it made sense, if he was all the babe knew, then his reassurance was all that was required for the little thing to feel safe.

 

Though he was sure the babe at least recognized the other clones by now, after gods knew how many weeks had been spent being passed to them between the bars whenever Verstael sent for him. They still didn’t talk, but he was at least grasping some of the finer points of their personalities. NH271 was the oldest of them – still didn’t look much older than a teen, but she held herself to a higher standard than the others. NF6790 – who was assigned to the lab – was a bit more personable. He had a variety of facial expressions and hand gestures at his disposal, and was happy to display them. Between the two of them, he had met what he thought was most of the staff. Silent clones, all, ranging from six or seven years in appearance to NH271’s late teens.

 

He couldn’t decide yet if the silence was enforced or a choice the clones had made collectively. He knew NF6790 could make noise – the unfortunate side effect of being assigned to the lab when Verstael was in one of his moods and likely to lash out – but so far he had never known them to make a conscious decision in making it.

 

He leaned back against the bars, ignoring the faint buzz against his spine and the way it made his hair stand on end.

 

He was getting used to this, and he hated himself more for the adaption. He needed to get out, before it became too easy to stay and he forgot that there was anything else.

 

At this point, he would take rescue. He would even take Clarus giving him shit all the way back to the damned city if that was what needed to happen.

 

He wanted to go home, needed to go home. He had things to do, tasks he had to report on.

 

A hand touched him gently through the bars, pressing against his shoulder.

 

NF6790 was standing above him, head tilted slightly to the side, face questioning.

 

“Fine. Nightmare.” He muttered out of the side of his mouth, aware as always of the cameras around him.

 

The hand pressed down, fingers squeezing slightly.

 

“Thanks.”  
  
NF6790 nodded slightly, and stood up, moving to the door of his tiny cell. The clone unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist, and then stepped aside, making a small motion with his hand.

 

_Come._

It showed how badly the entire experience was wearing down on his mind that his first thought was Ardyn had put the poor clone up to this somehow. That this was another trick, created to show him how trapped he was.

 

NF6709 shuffled awkwardly, looking both ways down the hall and making another stern motion for him to follow.

 

He rolled to his feet, clutching the nameless babe tighter as he obeyed.

 

NF6709 looked slightly relived, guiding him through the halls to what he thought was a supply room, motioning at the shelves.

 

Clothes. The clone had taken him somewhere he could be clothed. It was awkward, he didn’t want to put the infant down or hand him off, still worried about Ardyn and this being a trick. But he managed. Pants, shirt, parka, boots. Solid, warm clothes.

 

He tucked the baby inside his jacket when he was done, remembering Prompto keenly, and set about building a gear bag as quickly as he could.

 

NF6790 was already wearing gear, but he changed out his shoes for some of the heavy boots, and stuffed a pair of gloves in his pocket.

 

“What about the others?” He asked, worrying.

 

NF6790 smiled, shaking his head a little.

 

He wasn’t sure what to take from that gesture. Don’t worry? Something was already in the works?

 

The light above the door started blinking, he shouldered the gear bag and stepped to the door, worried it would lock on him.  

 

NF6709 stepped up beside him, checking the hallway before he let him leave and motioning for him to follow.

 

He did, because Ardyn or not, he trusted the clone to do his best at whatever self-assigned task he was preforming.

 

They met the others in what he assumed was their barracks, NH271 working at a computer and the younger clones looking sleepy and a bit confused, though all were dressed in cold weather gear, including one who was probably only around four that he hadn’t seen before.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

NH271 paused her typing and wrote something on a pad.

 

He accepted it, reading over her statement. ‘We wake the others. All of the others. I am giving them a last command.’

 

“What is the last command?” He asked, handing it back.

 

She tilted her head, considering what she wanted to write before she printed it. ‘That loyalty to the empire is death, to follow Cor Leonis is life. Choice is given to units who are not active yet.’

 

He gaped at her, caught completely off guard. “Why me?”

 

She pointed silently to the lump the babe made in his coat.

 

He covered it automatically with his hand. “Verstael will hurt them.”

 

She smiled, taking back the pad and writing. ‘We are many.’

 

He looked at the screen, which was still scrolling. “You aren’t typing.”

 

She shook her head, writing again. ‘Our memory is collective before we wake, shared between each unit. I have taken one of Superior Verstael Besithia’s teaching units.’ She motioned to her head, where something that looked like a crown was settled. ‘I am sharing my memory of Cor Leonis in captivity caring for new unit, and memories of other interactions.’

 

“They will all know…everything?” He asked, vaguely alarmed. It felt like brainwashing.  

 

She nodded, writing again. ‘Do you wish to share something?”

 

Gut said absolutely not, not on her life. Heart was a different matter entirely. He thought of Prompto, and looked at the little four-year-old, so still and silent. “Yeah. Can I?”

 

She nodded, reaching up to take off the headset, placing it gently on his head. She wrote something, but the head rush of suddenly being connected to so many curious minds was…

 

He wasn’t even sure where his body was.

 

He focused on his own memories instead, finding Prompto. Detaching him. Coaxing Prompto into eating, the entire escape.

 

He focused on memories of Prompto sleeping in his arms, running his fingers through his hair, Prompto shouting his name, teaching him to swim, toast and cheese.

 

They were so much more than what they were made to be. They could have so much more. Prompto bringing him a shell on the beach with such a serious face, Prompto laughing in the surf, convincing prince Noctis to make shapes with seaweed and shells with him. Sleeping with Prompto curled up on his chest, blanket around him.

 

NH271 removed the headset, looking deeply concerned.

 

“I’m ok.” He stuttered, reacquainting himself with his body rather than the over consciousness – was that really how they had created them? Poor bastards. No wonder the Lucis army had been overrun. "Did it work?" 

 

She pointed to the screen, and nodded.

 

“Great. Now what?”

 

NH271 input a few more commands, tucking the headset into a bag at her side, and then used a sword to destroy the workstation she had been using.

 

It was efficient. He suddenly felt a little bit better about his occasional desire to murder his office computer.

 

She caught his wrist, tugging him with her, and motioned for the little gaggle of children to follow.

 

One of the older kids picked up the four-year-old after his or her legs proved to be too short to keep up with everyone else.

 

The alarms were still going, blinking and blaring overhead, but he was choosing to ignore the noise pollution, caught in the formation of clones moving quickly, observing how the small unit worked together, and never needing a command to stop or go.

 

It was scarily efficient. He had trained most of his life to be as good as he was, but even the little ones seemed to know what they were doing.

 

NH271 took them to the hanger, where units of MT stood locked in formation and made no move to stop them.

He watched them still, confused by their stillness. The one closest to him turned its head, red eyes staring through him.

 

NF6709 grabbed his arm, patting his shoulder, dragging him back into formation with the rest.

 

 NH271 was swiping her way into a transport.

 

“Can you fly that thing?” He asked, pausing at the bottom.

 

NH271 looked at him, and then at NF6709, rolling her eyes briefly skyward in a gesture that was obviously copied from him, and nodded.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t expecting me to.” He snorted. “Glad you’re finally understanding sarcasm.”

 

She smiled, still a bit wry, and gestured the rest of the clones to the crash seats as she moved to the front.

 

The machine was already coming to life around them.

 

It was only after they took off that he even started to consider he might be going home.


	5. Chapter 5

The trip back was nerve wracking. They had to stop and refuel at two bases, and each time were met by fully converted and armed MTs. 

The first time, he had been expecting a fight. But they had simply been resupplied and sent on their way. The second time one walked up to him and peered at him intently, then nodded as though his appearance had confirmed some theory it had before it walked away. It made no attempt to touch him, but the regard had been odd and a bit…unnaturally focused. 

The baby slept, the four year old played on the floor by his feel. He told stories just to fill the silence and keep himself from going mad. 

So close, so many potential complications. Being recaptured, those that had helped him being executed from treason. In the brief moments of dozing his mind had explored all of the potential outcomes of his escape. 

NH271 put their transport down just outside of Hammerhead, because the mental calculations of taking the shuttle anywhere near to the wall had kept him up for three days. 

Wesk and Cid were waiting when the ramp lowered, Cid with his gun drawn but pointing vaguely at the ground. The sight of Wesk made his heart briefly seize in his chest, his eyes darting around the darkened area, seeking and not finding Regis and Clarus. The thought of his friends back together…. He pushed it away.   
Cid’s face cleared as he started forward, gun vanishing into the armiger with a flick of his wrist. “Punk kid, here we were all worried and you just about had it all wrapped up. Shows us, thinking to rescue you.” ” 

He snorted. “Sorry to concern you.” He had the babe tucked under his jacket, the younger clones packed in behind him. “It was a bit touch and go for a moment.”

Wesk stepped forward, clapping him on the shoulder. “We knew you had been captured, but from the communications we thought you were still alive.”

Cid, by contrast, was looking between the kids behind him. “Cor you din’t, again? Nifs ain’t an adoption service, kid.” 

“They are fairly bad at looking after children.” He touched his fingers to the four-year-old’s shoulder. “I couldn’t leave them.” 

Cid crouched down. “Ol Reggie’s been about to charge out and get ya back, and you were playing with kids. I see that baby you got under your shirt, don’t think you can fool me.”

“You are as observant as always.” He stated dryly.

The four-year-old tucked themselves against the back of his knees, fingers catching on the edge of his coat. 

“They used them as slaves around the labs. No names, silent. Haven’t figured out if they can talk and just aren’t or if they can’t. Figured I’d get Addy to look at them once we got to Insomnia.” He dropped his hand to the back of the child’s head, circling fingers against the curve of their skull.

“Never thought I’d see the day.” Cid shook his head. 

“NH271 and NF6790 are their leaders.” He introduced, indicating the older two as they came to join them. “NH271 planned and executed our escape, she’s very clever.” 

NH271 nodded, looking solemn. 

“NH271, NF6790, This is Cid Sophiar and Weskham Armaugh. They’re good friends of mine, you can trust them as you would me.” He explained. 

Cid was making a face. “Numbers, eh? I got a book around here somewhere for folks who’s having babies if y’all wanna look through it.” He stood up. “Gotta give Reggie a call, let him know you’re breathing and hording kids again.”

“Hording?” He objected. 

“Ya look at yourself lately, brat?” Cid retorted, motioning for them to follow. “You named that one you’re holding yet?”

“Morris.” He answered, without really thinking about it. 

Cid paused, and Weskham smiled slightly next to him. “You would, Brat.” 

He shrugged, trying not to trip over the four-year-old at his back. Weskham at least had removed himself far enough that he could walk, the little one was trying to merge with his knees. “Has anything happened?”

“Besides the Nifs suddenly halting their attack and a bunch of them landing to work out their differences and you being featured as some sort of Nif fight club and Clarus about having kittens over It and your kid teaching the Prince how to teleport around the citadel? Nah, not much.” Cid kept walking, leading the entire gaggle into his work space. “My grandchild is here.” 

He was trying to process all of that information. “Noctis knew how to teleport already, Regis said.”

“The princeling knew how to find his dad. Prompto knows your staff. Combined they’re the toddler menaces of the Citadel and it’s mostly your fault.”

“How?” 

Cid snorted. “You’ll see, brat.”

Wesk rolled his eyes. “Do not let him bother you, everyone has been worried about your fate.”

Cid pulled out a chair, motioning for him to sit down. 

It took some juggling to get the kids settled, most of them wanting to stick close to him or to the older clones, but a few of the older clones were curious about the garage. 

Then little Cindy showed up and it was clear that all of the kids were fascinated with another child who could show them around. He lost all but the baby and the four year old to Cindy explaining basic mechanics and taking apart a radio with them. 

“So what happened?” Cid was asking. 

“Walked into a trap, Verstael is still an ass, the Accursed loomed at me.” He shrugged. “As far as captures go, it was fairly uneventful. I think they were expecting me.” 

“Figures.” Wesk muttered. “Verstael was never the most…creative of opponents. But how would they know to lay a trap for you.” 

He shifted the baby – Morris – tucking the little one against his shoulder. “I would like to know that as well. I intend to find out as soon as I am back at the citadel.” 

“Never a dull moment with you.” Cid had his phone cradled against his neck. “Clarus. We’ve got the brat here. Yeah, you wreck my car on the way here and I’ll have you picking up every stone from here to Lestallum. Yeah. Wesk is still with me.”

He held out his hand for the phone, and Cid passed it to him. “Hey.” 

Clarus was breathing hard on the other end. “You jackass.” 

“I know.” 

“Fucking…just…hell. I’m bringing your kid. I’m bringing the whole guard to walk your ass back here. You fucking…”

“I’m fine, Clarus.” He responded, patient. 

“Fucking….” Clarus made a noise, and there was a bit of muffled static. 

“Are you well?” Regis’s voice was softer, but had a rough quality to it that he wasn’t used to hearing from his king.

“I am, majesty. I look forward to seeing you both.” The relief hadn’t quite set in yet. 

“We will be there soon. Please do not get captured again.”

“I’ll do my best.” He found himself smiling, the little one clutching at his knee. 

“See that you do. That’s an order, Marshal.” 

*~* 

Cid was holding Morris when Clarus pulled into the lot in a cloud of dust.

Prompto squealed from the back of the car, audible even outside it, and in a flash of faintly purple light was charging towards him.

That was something he would have to train the kid out of, because it was dangerous, but for the moment he just dropped to his knees and engulfed the little boy in his arms. 

“Cor!” Prompto’s voice was teary, but the pronunciation was there. “COR!” 

“Hey buddy.” He whispered, throat unaccountably tight as he rocked the child in his arms. 

“You go!” Prompto wailed softly. “No go.”

“No go.” He agreed, rubbing Prompto’s back, squeezing his eyes shut. “I missed you, buddy.” 

Prompto sniffled, rubbing his face against his shoulder. 

He stood to meet his king and Clarus, holding Prompto tightly in the circle of his arms. 

Regis caught him in a brief hug, magic pulsing through him as his king took stock of his condition. It was an intrusion, Regis normally asked if he would be alright with it. But for once he welcomed it, glad of the chance for the shadows of Ardyn’s touch to be chased away.

“Holding the kid so I won’t flip you.” Clarus grumbled. 

“You haven’t been able to pin me in years.” He retorted, giving Regis’ a grateful look. 

“What did they do to you, Cor?” Regis asked quietly, hand massaging into his shoulder, magic seething beneath his skin. 

“You better put that kid down if you’re going to throw down like that.” Clarus growled at him. 

“Fight later.” Regis said quietly. “Cor?”

“The Accursed was in fairly constant attendance.” He admitted. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but I know that the army is in part his doing. Even as much as Verstael has been pushing things.”

Prompto made a soft hiccupping sound, nuzzling into his shoulder. “No.” 

He gave the kid a protective squeeze, aware of Cid and Wesk on his six. “So this is your child?” Wesk asked, peering down at Prompto. “Cute.”

“He got another one.” Cid informed Clarus. “Morris, this time. Littler, less panicked. Even managed to put him down for a nap earlier.”

Regis laughed, soft, thumb circling against his shoulder. 

“This is not what I meant when I said I wanted you to settle down.” Clarus said, looking pointedly at the baby. “But I guess it works.” 

*~*

It took him a few months to settle back into his routine, adding single parenting of an infant to co-parenting Prompto, and keeping up with the clones who had mostly settled into their new quarters.

NH271 – Evie, now – had taken over as his aide and ruthlessly controlled his schedule. He thought she had more potential than just being an aide, but it was enough to let her get acclimated to the royal city. They needed the extra admin, considering Dratous and half of the Glaive had vanished shortly after his return.

NF6790 – Stephan – was working with Clarus and the new head of the Glaive to get things back under control. The rest of the kids had families, and he saw them regularly. Julia was still partial to him, but Monica was patient with her and brought her to work on her bad days. They had found something of a balance between them. 

It was, despite the bumps and adjustments, a decent life. A good life, even. He was happier than he had remembered being in his past. Wesk and Cid were in and out of the city, Regis was needing to put less power into the wall, weekly they had MTs surrendering themselves at the gates and turning around to chase of their Nif loyal brethren. They had even started to direct some of them at rebuilding settlements and laying in new crops. 

Just last week the Tenebrae royal family had visited, and Accordo had sent a new delegate to renegotiate terms. 

Being captured had turned the entire war around, and if his knees still ached, or he woke up in the middle of the night in a wild terror that he was back in Verstael’s lab – well, so be it. His life had always been a coin he was willing to pay for peace. 

He had just put Morris down in his crib, stripping off his coat and starting his prep for bed. 

“You are so unexpectedly mortal.” A soft voice said behind him, fingers trailing up his arm. 

He spun, but Ardyn only used that to pin him to the wall, hands wrapped loosely around his neck. 

Panicked, his eyes flicked to the crib where his son was sleeping, but Ardyn only chuckled. 

“Worry not, I will not harm him – or you. I rather like you, Mr. Leonis. You make things so wonderfully unexpected.” One of the hands uncurled from his neck, tracing his jaw. “I do not want to die, you see. As wretched as this existence is…. I do not want to be their lamb. You have delayed things.”

He grunted. “You’re welcome, then.”

Ardyn chuckled, fingers tightening faintly around his neck until he saw spots. “I want to know how you do it, Mr. Leonis.” 

Despite the spots, he managed a shrug. 

Ardyn laughed. “You are so carelessly human. So utterly disconnected from all that should be, and yet like a rock in the shoe of a great warrior causing him to stumble you persist. Thank you.”

He pushed ineffectively at Ardyn’s chest, wanting to speak, or at least to breath, but the Accursed loomed closer. 

“I do not know that I shall see you again.” Ardyn murmured. “Which is a pity, I do so enjoy your reckless defiance.” 

His mouth moved soundlessly. 

Ardyn dropped him, moving to lean over the crib, hand running briefly over his son. 

He launched himself to his feet, the Accursed vanishing as he moved.

Morris was asleep, hands curled up near his face and expression peaceful.

There was no trace of Ardyn’s presence.


End file.
